


phantom memories

by madburymangler



Series: Phantom Touch [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Euostrath's Descent
Genre: Character Study, Falling In Love, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Original Slash, Original Universe, Other, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28776462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madburymangler/pseuds/madburymangler
Summary: How deeply unfair it is to be so thoroughly ensnared by a creature like Iketasos. In the twinkling lights of the bath, Nyleein feels alive with a desire so entirely foreign to who he is now and yet so wonderfully natural that it nearly feels as heady as he's certain the waters will.
Relationships: Iketasos/Nyleein
Series: Phantom Touch [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108832
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	phantom memories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aconitumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aconitumi/gifts).



> Iketasos belongs to larkspureee on Twitter and Nyleein to Danny, her DM

How deeply unfair it is to be so thoroughly ensnared by a creature like Iketasos. In the twinkling lights of the bath, Nyleein feels alive with a desire so entirely foreign to who he is now - and yet so wonderfully natural - that it nearly feels as heady as he's certain the waters will.

What a treasure it is to see, especially when the results come with a side of their face. Smug or not, he will take whatever they offer him, the slavering beast within him that has only made an appearance with Iketasos simultaneously rearing its head and showing its belly in submission.

There are additions to this room that many would consider frivolous; to Nyleein, they simply speak of Iketasos's tastes. As he ties up his hair, preparing to sink into what he is certain will be luxury, every inch of his skin, scarred and marked though it might be, aches sweetly. How unlike him this is - but when it comes to the phantom, this wonderful, maddening phantom, can he even be surprised?

There are rose blooms in vases, wet with humidity and in the height of their beauty. He is not a man for poetry, and neither is he much given to romantic ruminations, but with white and crimson blossoms infusing the air with their sweet scent, how can he not indulge?

Outwardly, there is nothing that might sing of his feelings to a voyeuristic outsider. He is better than that, for all that Iketasos had ruined that careful facade so readily before. His face, reflected in the still waters that now surround him, is as placid as it has ever been. Inside, however, no matter what the steady pace of his heart might say, his mind is busy, turning over each smile and shift of their body, newly visible and all the more precious to him for that.

When was the last time he had felt this way? How many lives had he worn like a cloak, never feeling this... _thing_ he is reluctant to put a name to simmering in his chest until it was too late to stop it from bubbling free?

Would it be just as easy to be with them as it had felt when their words of comfort had washed over him with all the warmth of the waters he is now subjecting himself to?

 _Immortalized._ Perhaps this ardent declaration should shame him more than it does; to be certain, he's still feeling the urge to submerge himself entirely in the bath at his frankness. To hear the phantom stumble over their words, though... When he can now match that with an admittedly lovely face, how can he regret it?

What an odd person, to so willingly give of themself for him... He had not taken off the ring before getting in the bath, and as his hands make a last pass across his body to clean it, he cannot help touching it as though to make sure it's still there, though its subtle weight is already a comfort.

Loath as he is to admit it, even to himself, these days he thinks he might have taken it even if it had nothing to do with regaining his sight.

He lets his hair tumble free from its ties, and only with its familiar weight around him does he think about how absolutely childish he had been. Certainly, there were plenty of reasonable reactions to having a stunning person come so close to making a... rather bold advance, but falling off furniture? He really ought to be better than that.

With a sigh that he desperately wishes were born more of the relief of the water's slippery, immaterial hands than of his own discomfort, he rubs a hand across his jaw, unsure what it really is he's tired of. Not Iketasos. Never them. But something nonetheless...

It's fear, of course, no matter how he longs to bury the thought of a feeling so base, what should be beneath him. With lathered hands, he is heedless of the way his fingers tug and tangle through thick white locks. When will the other shoe drop?

Eyes. It does seem to come back to that, does it not? The phantom's are mesmerizing all on their own. That's rather the point, he knows, but to have them, darkly gleaming amber and tempting brandy, fixated on his own, almost _hungry_ even as Nyleein had made a fool of himself...

Iketasos is dangerous, all coy smiles and honeyed words, and were they anyone else, he might dismiss them out of hand.

They'd seemed honest, though, or at least as honest as things can be between people like them.

Are they both so different from who they used to be, though? Frankly, Nyleein can no longer be sure. The person he had once thought to spend his life with... Iketasos, he is sure, could one day become just that.

He dunks himself back beneath the gently lapping waters, unsure whether the wry tilt of his smile has more to do with concession or contentment.

Really, the phantom is just too bold by far.

By the time he's toweled off, hair loose as it dries, he feels as ready to descend the cool steps and depart this starry, steamy paradise as he knows he has appeared this whole time. Dragging his hand across his face one final time in preparation, he relishes in the solid thud of his footsteps as he goes down to face his (mostly) intentional tormentor once again.

When he rounds the corner, Iketasos is there, sprawled across the recliner, head propped on a hand, smiling like they know _exactly_ what has been plaguing him this whole time. Maybe they do; it wouldn't be all that surprising. Unbidden, a small, private twitch of his own mouth answers, and Iketasos's eyes widen.

Oh.

Fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/akschoene)


End file.
